I found myself standing there,
At the moment after nothing was left.
I thought maybe this was someone
Else's dark dream, but it was me.
A blank space of coloures like bruised flesh,
The heart of which slowly spun
And turned in on itself.
Repeating continuously a pattern
Of consumption and rebirth.
Even my own small presence there
Seemed to be blinking in tandem
With this gestalt of emptiness.
From my own fear of dissipating
Into part of this darkness, I woke.
My skin balmy from the sweat of bad dreams,
And terribly real nightmares.
My eyes laid lucid,
Set back deep into my sockets.
I lay and wonder, what could
have become of me.
The dark settled in.
YOU ARE READING
Blank Spaces
PoetryAn emotive journey through the empty places we visit but never want to see. The pain, the heartbreak, trying to see hope in places there may be none. And the secrets, and yes there are always secrets. Can you see them in this dark empty space? So it...
